Sunday, March 22, 2009

My Mum

I have the best Mum in the world. No seriously, you may think yours is better, but she’s not. Now don’t get upset now, your Mum is obviously the second best Mum in the world, and that is no mean feat. There are probably 1 billion Mums out there and yours is No.2 on the list. Still not happy, well would you like to be the second richest person in the world? Can we move on now, this is meant to be about my Mum and we have done nothing but talk about yours. Will it help if I said that if I could not have my Mum, I would want yours?

I feel I have to prove why my Mum is the best now, so let me trawl through the old memory banks. Did your Mum buy you everything you ever wanted, mine didn’t, but she let me lick the bowl every time she made a cake. Seriously, cake mix actually tastes better than cake, and did I mention that Mum used to make cakes, from home, for a living. That’s about 3 cake mix bowls a week, and don’t even get me started on icing mix, mmm pure sugar.

Did your Mum walk you to school every day, and when you got too old for all that kind of nonsense, about 8 in my case, walk you to the corner and let you walk that last bit on your own, so your mates would think you’re cool. Mine did.

Did your Mum always play the “good cop” to your Dads “bad cop”, always making sure that after the rollicking (this was not the word I wanted to write here, but Mum keeps telling me off for swearing) Dad just gave me for smashing something or other, I had someone to run to, to comfort me, and my God, that Mum apron smell. Mine did.

Although there was this one time, in band-camp, (could not resist the American Pie reference), that I had wound Mum up so bad, and for so long, that she chased me upstairs with her slipper in her hand. I dived under my duvet and hid and waited. Mum burst into the room and started whacking me, through the duvet, with her slipper. Unfortunately for her, she had supplied us all with 15 tog duvets, as she would not want one of her little darlings to freeze, so each whack felt like a gnat hitting you with a gnat-sized golf club. The more she whacked, the more I laughed out loud, until she finally gave up and went downstairs. It is only now, as a parent, I can imagine the frustration she felt. So whilst I am somewhat ashamed of my actions, I still laugh like a horse every time I tell that story.

Did your Mum let you move back home every time you split up with a girlfriend, or get divorced (only once), or come spinning off the rails in a spectacular style, even if you was 25 by then, and seriously, can’t you just pick a stayer. Mine did.

Did your Mum teach you how to cook by phone, and not get the hump a few years later, when you would attempt to give her advice on the best oil to cook with (I was going through that Extra Virgin Olive Oil stage). Mine did.

Did your Mum look after your Dad when he got ill, and keep track of all the appointments in the four different hospitals, and all the 26+ tablets (he likes to boast about this) he has to take at different times, every day for the last 4 years. Never moaning about how ill she might be, ever. Mine did.

Does your Mum look forward to every grandchild that keeps popping out, and spoil them (in a good way), and wishes she could spend even more time with them, but not want to hassle you about extra visits. Always having advice when asked for, rather than when you could really do without it because you are elbow deep in poop. Mine does.

Does your Mum have this absolutely wicked sense of humour that you did not even have a clue about, until you was a proper 30+ adult. On a regular basis, my Mum can slay me with a one liner of such Stand-up quality, I don’t even know where it, or the capacity for it, came from.

Have you seen your Mum jive, or laugh, or get tipsy, with a look on her face that makes you realise that once upon a time, she was a young woman with hopes and goals and dreams of her own, and that hopefully you have either fulfilled, or lived some of those dreams for her. I have.

I am not the type of person that takes compliments easily (that might be because I don’t do much to get them that often), but when someone tells me they think my Mum is great, and that I must be so proud of her, I reply “Damn right!”

I once asked her (whilst in a sulk), that if there was a Mothers Day and a Fathers Day, when was children’s day? She replied that every day was children’s day. She was right, and she has made every day feel like my day since.